


Wildflowers

by WatteauYouDoing



Series: Our Wishes [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, i'm obsessed with this game and can't stop writing little short stuff, let's just put some of that up shall we, mostly sweet assorted drabbles, same farmer as in crocus, this is all very non-linear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatteauYouDoing/pseuds/WatteauYouDoing
Summary: A series of asides regarding Shane's relationship with the local farmer, a woman who speaks little and who loves flowers more than life itself.





	1. Green Beans

**Author's Note:**

> let shane be happy. please.

They took their rest around noon, bringing their lunch over to the old stone wall and finding a place to sit by the mossy cobbles. Shane thought the beans were coming up very nicely, and he contemplated them for a moment before finding a nice spot on the sun-warmed stone. Something about seeing the green stems wound around the line of wooden trellises did a surprising amount to lift his spirits. Maybe it was because he knew it was his work that let them grow, or maybe it was imagining how good they’d taste when they were ripe - at least, before Bear trapped them in those abominable pickle jars.

A pity. Still, he’d get some to take home when the crop was ready, so he’d save some of them from that abysmal fate.

With a crinkle, he unwrapped the parcel-paper tied around the sandwich Bear had packed for him. It was beautiful; crisp lettuce, fresh tomatoes, and an egg he’d collected yesterday morning sandwiched between two slices of home-made bread. There was some meat, some cheese, and it was _so_ much better than anything he might have even conceivably consumed at Joja.

He smiled, the muscles still feeling a bit rusty, and took a bite.

Bear leaned next to him, propping herself up on her elbows as she let herself lounge. For once, Shane was taller than her, and he took a moment to appreciate the feeling of looking over the head of someone who was easily six-foot-five. How did the world look from her point of view? From her height?

From her perspective, both metaphorical and literal?

He often wondered that, and it was a hard thing to imagine, even sitting as he was. What was the world like for a woman who still paid homage to the fairies, the spirits, and the old, old ways of a time long forgotten? What was the world like for the self-proclaimed _daughter of a witch?_

(He could hear the bells on the breeze, tinkling softly and singing to the spirits. Shane didn’t believe, but he did think they sounded nice.)

Sometimes, he wondered if she thought the same of him, wondering what the world was like for an ex-varsity gridball player with a jacket full of empty dreams and a life that was more like a rusty hatchet than an ivy-strewn grate. He knew she sort of understood him, just as he sort of understood her, but there was a natural gap, a divide that sectioned off one life from the other.

A fence, where sometimes they could come and sit together, but there was still a vast world on either side, unknown.

“Hey, Bear?” He said, and she looked up at him, her own sandwich held in one hand and a speckle of crumbs on her cheek. Shane laughed, then reached out, cupping her face and brushing them off with his thumb. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t, either, even when he leaned over and put his mouth over hers.

Bear’s arms were hard, and her collarbone sharp and prominent against a muscular shoulder, but kissing her somehow still felt very soft, gentle, and sweet. He leaned over her, shifting so his weight was supported by his hand near her neck, and he felt hers come to rest at his back, steadying him on the narrow line of stone. With a soft nip, Shane pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, and Bear’s fingers gathered up the fabric of his shirt

With a soft laugh, he pulled away slightly and looked down at her.

 “What was that for?” she asked, her breath soft on his face. He could smell strawberries; was that from lunch, or had she been _snacking_ during the harvest?

“What, do I need a reason to kiss my girlfriend?”

A thoughtful hum thrummed in her throat, and then, in her usual flat delivery, she said “Yes.”

“Well, alright.”

Shane leaned in again, ghosting his lips against the end of her nose before giving a proper peck to his forehead. “I’m just doing what you do when you make kissy noises at your cows before calling them cute. I can’t help it, Bear. It’s just how the world works.”

“Uh-huh,” she said slowly, squinting. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Y’know what? Yeah, I am.”

He had dirt on his knees, mud in his soles, and he was wearing work-boots and long pants rather than shorts and loafers. The air was fresh, and yeah, he was tired and kind of sweaty, but after giving Bear a quick pat on the head, he settled back down on the fence and took another bite of sandwich. It was nice. It was _peaceful._

In the back of his mind, he could still feel that anxious pull for a drink, and he knew that there was a darkness crawling around at the back of her own head that she could never quite escape. However, where Shane and Bear met on the fence was pleasant intersection between two worlds, and there lay a happiness that he'd never forget.


	2. Morning Glories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two little snippets focused around mornings.

“It’s not burnt, it’s just. Y’know. Slightly toasted.”

“Shane, if I brought this to the crematorium, they’d start taking _notes._ ”

The man in question was about to protest this thorough evisceration of his lovingly prepared breakfast, but after taking another look at the lumpy ash scattered across the plate, he could only slump his shoulders and sigh in defeat. He’d tried! Really! He’d tried so hard that, if there was a fair and just deity in the world, he’d have been awarded three gold stars and a shiny A+ for intended merit alone. But there wasn’t, and trying didn’t really get you anywhere in life, and all he’d done is fuck up a perfectly good slice of bread and two very fine eggs he’d collected from the coop an hour before.

Figures.

“Okay, okay. I’ll clean it up.”

It was a good morning otherwise, he tried to console himself. He’d been terrified of married life going into this, but here he was, standing in a kitchen like he was in some kind of idyllic fifties sitcom with dull-green curtains framing the windows and streams of puffy sunlight spilling out over the tiled floor. He wasn’t hung-over, he was standing next to someone he loved, and yeah, his attempt at being a good house-husband had fallen woefully flat, but he could clean it up and throw a frozen pizza in the oven. Pizza was an okay start to the day, right?

Right.

He reached out for the plate, fingers mere inches from the creamy, rounded edge, when Bear caught his wrist with a kind of awkward look.

“Wait, I…”

She paused, trailing off as he gave her a quizzical squint.

“You made it. I should eat it.”

Shane stared at her, dumbstruck. “No way. You’re right, it looks like shit. You’d probably die and I’d have to take _you_ to the crematorium, which I’m not sure I could do, because you’re really damn heavy.”

There was a pause where Shane and Bear stared at each other, and he coughed and said, “No offense.”

She raised a brow. “None taken. But it’s probably not that bad, and, well… if your spouse makes you food, you eat it, right? Even if tastes awful.”

“Wow, gee. Really sparing my feelings,” Shane said flatly, and panic pinched at Bear’s mouth.

“…No offense.”

“None taken. I was just making fun of you.” Shane gestured at the dish that Once-Could-Possibly-Have-Been-Called-Scrambled-Eggs, But-Now-Was-Merely-an-Ashen-Graveyard. “Let’s just clean it up though, and put this debacle behind us. I hear the sound of desperation and bad choices calling to us from the freezer.”

Bear still hadn’t let go of his wrist, which Shane didn’t mind, really, it was kind of like off-brand hand-holding. He did kind of mind that she wrinkled her nose like he’d just suggested that they roll in a manure pit like dung beetles and then dance in front of the Mayor’s house, but he tried not to take her weird hang-ups regarding pre-packed food too seriously.

“That’s _heresy.”_

“Says the woman who says prayers to like, five different gods.”

“Would you take me more seriously if I said it was against my religion?”

“Not really, but I’ll give in this time. What do _you_ suggest for our morning meal?”

Bear thought. Looked at the ceiling. Looked at the floor. Looked at the fridge, and then she gave up, because she really didn’t feel like putting in the effort to be a decent, healthy human being today, either.

“Okay. Fine.” There was a long, heavy sigh. “We’ll eat the pizza.”

 

* * *

 

Bear was sitting in the kitchen when Shane awoke, her elbow crooked on the table and her hand supporting half of her face. She looked at him when she heard the creak of wood by the doorway, honeycomb eyes shadowed by dark crescents of exhaustion, and then she sat up, cracking her joints with a hollow-sounding pop.

“Hey,” she said, and he said it back in return. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah. You?”

He thought about how cold the sheets next to him had been when he awoke, and he could tell that she was thinking the same.

“Woke up a bit stiff,” she said, easing herself up and pushing in her chair. It ground against the floor, a rasp of a sound, and she looked towards the stove as if trying to ignore it “That’s all. Breakfast?”

“Sure.”

There was a quiet sort of awkwardness between them, of Bear knowing that Shane knew, and Shane knowing that Bear knew that Shane knew, and neither were really certain about what to do about it. After a moment of standing there, though, he realized he really was being silly and that the proper response was really quite obvious.

The fridge opened, the pop of releasing rubber seals melting into a low hum. Bear peered into the light, searching, and the artificial glow illuminated the tired, worried lines cut into her brow. Without saying anything, Shane moved beside her and looped his arm around her waist. After giving her a quick squeeze, he held her, resting his face against her shoulder.

“You could have woken me up,” he said quietly. Bear looked down at him, pausing before she grabbed the milk. It was fresh, just like the carton of eggs lined up next to it, and just like the gleaming red fruits and the pale-white parsnips bundled up on the shelf beneath. It was kind of ironic, Shane thought, staring into the overflowing fridge. The entire house was so pretty and pure, and yet a shadow still clung to them both, living in their hearts and curled up in their minds. It was something that no amount of fresh, mountain air and pure spring water could fix.

“…I didn’t want to trouble you.”

She'd gotten what she'd needed, though she couldn’t move yet, as Shane still had her captive with his hand at her hip. He looked up at her, frowning, and she at least had the decency to look ashamed about her hard-headed stubbornness.

“How many times have I told you that it _doesn’t_ bother me?”

“A lot,” she said, and then sighed. “But lately, it’s been happening nearly every night. You’ll get tired, eventually. Cranky. _Resentful._ ”

She tacked that last word on with a sense of resignment, and he reached up, flicking her lightly on the nose.

“How many times have dealt with my dipshit, hung-over ass? Bear, I’m not going to resent you for a few _nightmares._ Just wake me up. We’ll hug it out, or whatever other soppy, gross shit married people do. Okay?”

She was silent, so he tried again. _“Okay?”_

“…Okay,” she repeated, but still sounded guilty about it. “It’s just – it’s so dumb. Things have been fine for years, and yet…”

“Brains are stupid and dumb and we should probably enact legislature to ban them. Don’t feel bad cuz yours is bugging you, especially in some stupid dream. It doesn’t make you _needy_ or… whatever. Just…”

Shane sighed, and then he patted her back and pulled her away. “Just know you can – ack!”

Suddenly, without warning, Bear turned and hugged him properly. The fridge door swung open, pooling cool air over the two of them, but he couldn’t really feel it, immersed as he was in her warmth. The condensation on the milk prickled into his shirt, still held in the hand which was now at his back, but he ignored it in favor of her smell.

Like dirt, always like dirt, and something musky like the bark of a tree.

“Sorry,” she apologized out of habit, but still she didn’t let go. “Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

There were a million things Bear could feasibly be apologizing for, but Shane didn’t really care about any of them. He lifted a hand to the back of her head, cupping it and stroking her soft, messy hair. “’S okay, you big dummy. Take as long as you need.”


	3. Snowdrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't sleep.

Shane was shivering, so without sparing a second thought, Bear gave her zipper a single, sharp jerk and deposited her jacket around his shoulders.

He looked up at her, blinking, his mouth pursed in an ‘o’ of surprise. It was an endearing expression, a transient, delicate one like one of the first tender shoots in the spring. He stopped, and she did too, halting on the mountain path lined by solemn, grey-barked trees and endless drifts of pure white snow. The fuzzy sunlight shone over them, a diffuse glow peering through the milky clouds covering the sky, and the air felt quiet, cold, but somehow gentle. It was the kind of scene that should be lonely, but because they were together…

The color of the light was warm.

Shane’s hand found the edge of the jacket, thin fingers curling into the corduroy fabric, and he swallowed, keenly aware of her scent. Spices permeated the inner lining today, a remnant from the afternoon’s curry, but there was still that deep, earthen tone and a faint hint of roses that reminded him of spring. She’d probably been making her own extracts, or working with them in some capacity.

It made his heart beat louder, and for a moment that felt eternity, he met her warm, amber gaze.

 _I like you!_ He wanted to say.

 _I like you!_ He wanted to shout.

 _I like you so much I can’t stand it!_ He wanted to scream, the sound reverberating through the empty forest in a ceaseless echo, but he didn’t. He just stood there, transfixed and immobile.

With a blush, she looked away, and then moment ended.

“…Sorry, I didn’t embarrass you, did I?”

Shane blinked, trying to shake himself out of the fugue that he’d been trapped in. “Uh – no, why?”

“Dunno,” Bear scratched her cheek, then rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “Guys get weird when anything makes them think about how much bigger I am than them.”

He heard the crunch of snow as she shifted her weight, one foot to the other, and somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear a bird flap its wings. A cleanly-cut cold prickled against his skin and a warmth seeped across the expanse of his chest, but no – he couldn’t call this feeling _embarrassment._ Want? Yes. Desperation? Yes. Love?

\--Yes.

But not _embarrassment._

Embarrassment would imply that he wanted things to be some other way than they were right now, and that would require fundamentally changing Bear as a human being. Embarrassment over something like that would mean that he didn’t entirely accept this dynamic between them, that he didn’t _welcome_ it, and how could he not? This was love, and the very careless casualness of the “traditionally masculine” gesture was what had set his heart beating so quickly in the first place. This was love, and it was neither incomplete nor conditional. There was no _in spite of_ with Bear. It was all _because of._

Because she did this, he loved her.

Because she wanted to protect him, without a second thought, he loved her.

Because she was who she was – tall, inelegant, and deeply seeped in the scent of the earth – he loved her, because everything about that was _her._

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Shane said, looking at his shoes. “So don’t apologize. It’s not your job to worry about someone’s bruised ego.”

“Well… it sort of is. People should care about the feelings of others, and that includes their pride. I should have asked if you wanted it first.”

“I – do,” he replied, though even as he slipped his arms through the too-large holes, he felt a surge of guilt about being a burden. Yet, on the other hand, there was a selfish part of him that reveled in the feeling of being taken care of by her, and he was starting to treasure that more these days. It was a piece of the real her, the true her that so many others were unable to see. To her, _kindness_ was not a sacrifice. It was proof that she had strength far greater than what she used to plow the fields. “I do want it. Thank you. Are you sure you’ll be alright, though?”

Another shrug, and she tucked her hands into her pockets, leaving only her forearms exposed to the chill. “It doesn’t bother me.”

There was a pause, and it seemed like she was about to start walking again, when he stopped her with a hastily spoken word.

“Wait – Bear.”

She turned, looking at him with a curious tilt of her head, and he nestled into the dark brown fabric as he tried to figure out quite what to say. His blood still thrummed in his chest, his ears, and it was painted across his face in a blush he hoped she’d attribute to the cold. “While I… I mean, I obviously agree that people should think about the feelings of others, but…”

He shuffled, then looked up at her with a frown. “But only to an extent. Being mad at you for giving me your jacket because it makes me look weak – that implies that there’s something wrong with you being in a position to give me your jacket in the first place. That something about your height, your appearance, your physical properties… aren’t _good,_ and that it’s inherently bad that you’re like that. But that’s a lie. It’s fine, how you are. It’s – “

Yoba, was his voice cracking? He wasn’t a teenager anymore. _Blast this._ “It’s good.”

It was the closest Shane had ever come to a confession, and it still wasn’t even close to bridging the gulf between his heart and hers. Bear stared at him, head still tilted, face still bearing the traces of incomprehension… but still, something resonated with her, and she nodded slowly before looking up at the sky.

“…I used to wish I didn’t look like this. Every day, I’d pray I’d wake up different, and whenever I watched a star fall… that would be my wish. Every night, I asked them, when will you make me a different me?”

She admitted this in such a quiet voice, and a sigh wafted through the air as Shane stared at the strange line of her crooked nose. “But it never happened. It only got worse. Day by day - no, it happened slower than that, year by year – I learned that people liked things that were delicate the best. Pretty, dainty. ‘S why they like teacups and fancy china and silk that rips if you tug it too hard. And women? Women were supposed to be the prettiest, daintiest things of all. At least, that’s what all those stupid poems they tried to get us to read in school told me. What were they called? Sonnets? …Mm.”

She snorted slightly, a brief, derisive sound accompanied by a twist of her mouth. “I know better now, but I still remember all those wishes. They’re always there, in a way, following you wherever you go – ‘s funny, really. What they told me they wanted me to know, I forgot. What they didn’t outright say but wanted me to think anyway – I’ll remember it forever. That’s what school is really like.”

“…So, thank you, Shane. I… wish I didn’t need to hear things like that. I wish I could forget. But I can’t, I’m not sure I ever can, and hearing you say otherwise is… nice.”

“I should be the one saying that,” Shane said without thinking, because his breath was practically gone and if he waited another second, he’d lose his ability to breathe at all. “You’re the one I should be thanking. For - for being the kind of person who can give me a jacket in the first place. For being you. Thank you for existing, Bear. That’s something _I’ll_ never forget.”

There was silence on that old winter path, and once more, the not-quite couple looked at each other. There was nothing more to say, because everything that had needed to be conveyed at that moment had already been said. Winter was a season of cold, chilly nights – but it also contained within it these moments of pure perfection, like a lake so smooth that it was indistinguishable from mirrored glass.

They were mirrored in each other, that solitary pair. Their hearts were reflected in each other, and Bear took a step closer to him, her hand settling on the crook of his elbow.

“…Your hands. Are they cold too?”

“Yeah?” He said, a bit dizzy and not entirely understanding the question. But it didn’t matter, because she slid her fingers down his arm and clasped his fingers within her own.

“There.” It was a simple word that did nothing to explain or restrain the entirely unsimple _feeling_ that rose up in Shane’s chest. “Shall we go?”

He nodded mutely and began accompanying her once more, but this time, holding her hand in the winter light.


	4. Bleeding Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spot of making-out in a thoroughly unsuitable place for it.

It was cold, clammy, still air chilled by the depth of the earth, and in it, her mouth felt warm.

There was just something about seeing her like that, blood soaked into her shirt and mud splattered on her shoulders and jawline, that made him desperate. Not a hungry kind of desperate, like when she’d just walked out of the shower, water dripping down her muscles and glimmering on her hip, or the miserable kind of desperate he felt when he was at his lowest, when his breath stank, when he knew he shouldn’t drag himself to her like this because he was so _pathetic_ and _wretched_ but she took him in anyway, she kissed him anyway – not on the mouth, because she couldn’t bear it, but on his cheeks, his forehead, the dip of his collarbone and his shoulder before heaving him against her.

No. Right now, it was a panicked kind of desperate, the feeling that - had things just gone a little differently, had the chips fallen just an inch or so to the right – her blood would now be splayed across the ancient stone walls, dying them crimson like rose petals scattered across the snow. Shane kissed her because he thought that, at any moment, in any encounter, he might lose her, and that scared him more than anything else in the world.

He bit Bear’s lip, his breath trembling against her as he wheezed and pressed himself close, half hauling her down by the neckline of her shirt, the rest of him propped on his toes. Shane took care to avoid the wound slit into her side, not wanting to force her to endure any more pain than he’d already put her through… though he knew it wasn’t the physical stuff that hurt her, really. He hated how much she could bear, but even more, he hated how much she’d been forced to bear, how her nose was slanted and how so many of her memories involved bruised eyes and broken bones.

Shane wanted to kiss it all away, and wanted to kiss her now, mouth parting, feeling her tongue against his, feeling her teeth click against his as he got too eager because she was _alive,_ Bear was _alive,_ in this moment he was in love and she was alive and too often he was reminded that she might not be the next moment, or the next, or even the next day, or the year after that.

Because she threw herself into harm’s way, because she dove deeper and deeper, because she was the rock that everyone relied on, but by her heartbeat thrumming beneath his palm, Shane knew she was fragile. Shane knew she was mortal.

It was the most terrifying thing in the world to acknowledge, her mortality. It made him whine against her mouth when she pressed him against the wall, her leg shoved in-between his, her hand at his shoulder and her fingers curled into his neck. Shane knew it was because she worried for him, too, hated bringing him down here into the dark, old places where the evil things lurked and the forgotten things dwelled. Bear won many of their fights, her stubbornness giving her the tenacity to outlast him in the things she cared enough about to not fold immediately on, but he’d fought tooth and nail for this, for the privilege of accompanying her down into the mines.

_How dare you risk your life without me,_ he’d said, and the knowledge that she’d leave him behind still if he wasn’t always around to follow her made him dizzy. “Fucking idiot,” he growled into her ear, hearing her hiss lightly before he bit the lobe. Fuck, he thought again, knowing she was probably getting blood on him and _they really ought to bandage that,_ but that boiling fear in his gut made him want to steal one last bite against her flesh before he started being sensible again.

Maybe it was a promise, maybe it was a punishment, maybe it was a reminder that _someone fucking cares about you, you dumbass, be a little more careful –_ but he left a bruise there, rimmed by a ring of teeth marks, and Bear looked down at him when he pulled back, hair mussed and eyes hazy.

“I don’t understand your fetishes,” she said flatly, though there was faint highness to it, like she’d been rendered just as weak as him. “I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, well. Shut up,” said Shane, the king of witty repartee, and then looked down to the narrow slit carved across her sweat-soaked skin. “And let’s get that fixed. I can feel Harvey’s ghost screaming at us already, like we’re in Hamlet or something.”

“…But Doctor Harvey isn’t dead,” Bear said, brow furrowed, and Shane grumbled as he shoved at Bear’s leg so she’d release him from the wall.

“Yeah, well, with the way he goes on about it, I half expect him to astral-project and find me at night to chide me for not eating properly.”

“Mmm.” The sound was low, accompanied by a half-lidded gaze and a vaguely amused look down at him, but she pushed against the wall and took half a step backwards. It was surreal, how nobley and gracefully she took injures, though by this point, Shane was at least somewhat used to it.

His desires – and the insistence of his heart – somewhat abated, he knelt and found his discarded pack, reaching in it for the supplies he kept on hand for just this eventuality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, shut up, i'm fully aware that i have weird notions of romance, okay? it's just fun to write stuff like this as cooldown drabbles before bed.


End file.
